The government's move was calculated and deliberate. Earlier that morning, a courier arrived at StarDust headquarters, delivering a sealed envelope with the official insignia of the Global Alliance. The message inside was direct: A representative meeting between StarDust and the Global Alliance is demanded to discuss the organization's activities, along with its alleged involvement in the death of Nathan Seaver, a civilian.
The accusations against StarDust were not entirely baseless. The organization's operations often left collateral damage in their wake—a price Ryou was willing to pay to protect the world from the rift's horrors. However, the mention of Nathan hit deeper than Ryou expected, stirring emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel. Nathan's death was an accident—an outcome of forces beyond control—but now, it seemed like the government was leveraging it to unravel the delicate threads holding StarDust together.
Ryou stood in his office, the letter crumpled slightly in his grip as sunlight streamed through the grand windows. The golden light painted the room in warmth, but it did nothing to thaw the storm brewing in his chest. He'd anticipated this confrontation for some time, knowing the government's growing interest in Sera. Their failed attempt to capture her near her apartment weeks ago had proven that. Ryou had thwarted them then, but now their approach was no longer covert—it was direct, ruthless.
If they knew Sera was important to him—if they understood the depth of their connection—she would become their prime target.
The thought alone felt like ice settling deep in his bones.
He released the letter, letting it flutter onto the mahogany desk, and turned toward the window. Below him, the city sprawled in endless golden threads, oblivious to the war raging within him. His golden eyes narrowed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing like chains around his shoulders.
Ryou had always kept StarDust shrouded in secrecy. It wasn't just to maintain operational efficiency—it was to protect the lives of those within. Every member of StarDust had once been ordinary, living lives untouched by the chaos of rifts and monsters. He had vowed to preserve that semblance of normalcy for them, allowing them to walk among civilians without fear or scrutiny. But now, the Global Alliance's demands threatened that delicate balance.
They wanted transparency, identities revealed, and proof that StarDust wasn't orchestrating the rifts for some hidden agenda. The request for citizen registration—for accountability—had grown louder with each passing year. But Ryou knew that once those identities were exposed, there would be no returning to normalcy for his people. They would be hunted, vilified, and their lives destroyed. He had kept them hidden for a reason.
Sending Selva to the meeting was his way of buying time. She was sharp, professional, and unyielding—the perfect representative for such a contentious confrontation. But as the hours passed, the reports from the meeting were disheartening.
Selva had held her ground, presenting evidence of StarDust's efforts to protect humanity. But the government's skepticism remained unshaken. They dismissed her arguments, reiterating their demands for transparency and citizen safety. The phrase "collateral damage" was thrown like an accusation, laced with the weight of lives lost or disrupted by StarDust's battles.
"They're demanding proof we're not behind the rifts," Selva reported later, her voice crisp over the communication array. "And they're pressing for the identities of our members. They're framing it as a matter of public safety."
Ryou's jaw tightened as he listened. "We're not giving them what they want," he said firmly, his voice laced with quiet fury. "Our people's lives come first."
Selva hesitated, her voice taut with frustration. "They're not backing down. They're framing us as a rogue organization, accusing us of manipulating the rifts to spread fear and showcase dark power. They're demanding proof that our supernatural abilities aren't a threat to civilians—but how do we prove something to people who can't even see aura and energy? This meeting isn't going anywhere, Mr. Ryoumaru."
He closed his eyes, frustration and guilt warring within him. StarDust's secrecy had always been its shield, but now it felt like a target painted on their backs. He thought of Nathan's death, of Sera's trembling energy when she learned of the government's pursuit. He had tried to shield her, to shield all of them, but it was never enough.
"Then we'll prepare for what's coming," he said finally, his voice cold and resolute. "I'll protect them. All of them."
That evening, when Ryou arrived at Sera's apartment, the sight of him at her door startled her. He never came like this—not directly. His presence, always cloaked in shadow, was suddenly tangible and unhidden.
"Ryou?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as though his presence might shatter into smoke if she spoke too loudly.
Her breath caught as the fading light of dusk illuminated his face. The golden glow of evening softened his cold features, but it couldn't hide the strain in his expression. Something about the slight crease in his brow, the faint shadows beneath his golden eyes, made her chest tighten. For a fleeting moment, she thought she glimpsed the weight he always carried—a burden too heavy for one man to bear alone.
He stepped inside without answering, his gaze sweeping across the small apartment before landing back on her. His voice was low, steady, but she could hear the care threaded between his words. "Pack your things. You're coming with me."
Sera blinked, confused. "What? Why? What's happening?"
"The government has found out about you." His words, though simple, sent a chill through her. There was a softness in his tone, though—a quiet reassurance that this wasn't the end. "It's not safe here."
Memories of the government agents surfaced in her mind—their rough hands grabbing for her, the fear in her heart as she'd almost been taken away. "Where are we going?" she asked quietly.
"Back to my mansion," Ryou replied, his voice unyielding but calm. "The entire building is mine, and the top floor is private."
His certainty steadied her, and she nodded faintly. There was no fear—not with him here. Sera trusted Ryou more than anyone, and if he said she would be safe, then she believed him. Yet, as she began gathering her things, her eyes flickered toward him. What about you, Ryou? she wondered. He was always so strong, so composed, but now… now, she saw something else. Something weary in the line of his shoulders.
The thought crept into her heart like a thorn: Who's protecting you?
The familiar sight of Ryou's mansion greeted her as the elevator doors slid open. Sera stepped into the vast, pristine space—the cool air, the minimalist décor, the view of the city stretching beyond the windows. It hadn't changed. It was still a place of luxurious aesthetic, yet an overwhelming sense of emptiness seemed to echo through its halls.
"Back here again," she murmured, her voice soft, almost wistful.
"You'll be safer here," Ryou said, his tone firm but gentle. After a pause, he added, more quietly, "If you don't like the place, I can make some adjustments."
She turned to him, her honey-brown eyes searching his face. "No need," she said quickly, her voice carrying a warmth that she hoped would reach him. The thought of him trying so hard to make this cold mansion feel like home for her made her heart ache. For a fleeting moment, she let herself think, Maybe he cares about me. More than just a protector. The thought was intoxicating, warming her chest, but she quickly pushed it away. Don't be delusional, Sera. He's just being nice. That's all it is.
Ryou's golden eyes held hers for a moment, their intensity startling, before he turned away slightly.
Sera hesitated, her lips parting and closing again as she struggled to find the right words. She wasn't sure if she should even ask, but the weariness etched on his face made it impossible to ignore. Finally, she spoke, her voice breaking the silence, soft but resolute. "Ryou.. Are you getting enough rest?" she asked, her honey-brown eyes searching his. "You look tired."
Ryou didn't answer at first, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, as though searching for a truth even he couldn't grasp. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, but the words carried a weight that settled deep within her. "I'm fine… as long as you're safe."
Her heart ached at the simple honesty in his words. He said it like it was the only truth that mattered, as though her safety could shield him from the darkness he carried.
She wanted to tell him his safety mattered too—that he wasn't alone in this fight. Her hand twitched as if to reach for him, but uncertainty held her back. The way he stood, steady yet burdened, made her chest tighten. Why did he act like everything rested on him alone? Her lips parted, but she stopped herself, unsure if her words would comfort or add to his weight.Her gaze lingered on him, her honey-brown eyes searching his golden ones with quiet urgency. Ryou looked back, and for a moment, everything stilled. His eyes softened, the hint of vulnerability within them like an unspoken acknowledgment. For a second, she thought he understood, as though he could hear the words she couldn't say. Then, almost imperceptibly, his lips curved into a faint, tired smile, a reassurance meant just for her.